The Honest Con
by BurningStorm
Summary: He was a con-artist and she was an orphan-nobody. Together, these two have planned one of the biggest cons of the century—faking to be Princess Emilie. But could their ruse be much more than it seems? (Inspired by the 1997 Anastasia movie)
1. The Fiacre

**([AN: Yay! My third Les Miserables FF! So, I got this idea while re-watching Anastasia (the 1997 movie) and I just thought that Dimitri and Anastasia remind me SO MUCH of Enjolras and Eponine with their cute little banter. So, this chapter (I'm thinking about making it a stand alone muti-chapter fic [which means the chapters aren't completely connected], I'll need some pretty good convincing though, I tend to be quite lazy...) is pretty much the train part. Yes, it's short. Hopefully, if I feel like it, the next chapter will be longer (If there is a next chapter... MUAHAHA!). HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ENJONINE AS MUCH AS I DO! Review, Fave, and Follow if you enjoyed it!])**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Mis, or the Marble Man and Shadow, or Ferre (although...)**

The fiacre bounced gently as it made its way through the path, the cold winter air hitting its windows. Inside the fiacre, though, its occupants could barely feel the chill. The fiacre was occupised by two young ___monsieurs _and a ___mademoiselle _sat—or in the case of the young ___mademoiselle_, _slouched_—contentedly in silence.

Both young men were reading books and the young ___mademoiselle_contented herself with humming under her breath and playing with her silver necklace. The young ___monsieurs _wore slightly bourgeois seeming clothes and the young ___mademoiselle _had on a man's trench coat—probably one of the ___monsieurs__—_over a thinning grey dress.

The young _mademoiselle _seemed no older than nineteen, with wild auburn hair and doe-like eyes. Her skin was tan and her lips a fading red, but that seemed to add to her quiet beauty. One of the young ___monsieurs__—_the one who sat on the side opposite the young ___mademoiselle__—_was fair skinned with messy brown hair and spectacles over his warm brown eyes. He looked as if he was in his early twenties and had on a thoughtful expression and seemed the center of calm. The other young ___monsieur__—_who sat next to the young ___mademoiselle__—_had a mess of curly blond hair and strikingly deep blue eyes. His bowed lips were curved into a frown and his brows were furrowed deeply. With his face ever stoic, the air around him seemed much more mature than he looked—for he looked no older than twenty three.

The trio continued to ride in silence for another few minutes before the blond looked to his seatmate and noticed her slouching.

"Éponine, sit up straight," the blond chastised the girl. "And stop fiddling with that thing, you're supposed to be royalty."

"How do you know what royalty does and doesn't do?" she—Éponine—challenged heatedly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I make it my business to know," he replied coolly, his eyes returning to the book in his hands.

"Sure, _Lord_ Enjolras," Éponine rolled her eyes, still slouching deeply and defiantly.

Enjolras—the blond _monsieur—_sighed, placing his book on his lap with his thumb stuck in it as a bookmark. He turned to Éponine, a frown still on his stony face, "Look, Éponine, I'm just trying to help."

Looking up the his book, the brown haired _monsieur—_Combeferre—rolled his eyes, knowing that his friend was only doing this for the reward. They all were—but not as much as Enjolras.

Éponine sighed, sitting up straight and tilting her chin up, "Enjolras."

"Hm?" he quirked a brow.

"Do you really think I could pass as royalty?"

"Definitely."

"Do I _seem_ like royalty?"

_A royal pain_, Enjolras thought but replied, "If you acted properly."

"Do you see me as royalty?"

"Ever since you signed up for this job, I've seen you as royalty. You _are_ royalty."

Éponine smirked, a victorious glint in her eyes, "Then since I'm royalty, _stop bossing me around._"

She turned away smugly, leaving Enjolras at a loss for words. She had a point there.

"She sure _acts _like royalty," Combeferre smiled, looking at his friend's sour reaction.

"Yeah," Enjolras whispered—or he thought he was whispering, honestly, he couldn't whisper to save his life. "I hate that woman."

Upon hearing this, Éponine turned to stick her tongue out at his back, earning a chuckle from Combeferre. Enjolras turned to her with accusing eyes but her tongue was safely in her mouth by the time he had turned. She smiled innocently at him before returning to watch the scenery pass by.

Enjolras scowled at her back before returning to his book, trying to forget about her. Combeferre smiled at the pair's interaction, subtly pulling a piece of paper from inside his coat and unfolding it to reveal a scoring sheet. Ever since they had left Calais, it seemed the great orator had floundered in Enjolras and Éponine's great wit had won over most of the pair's banter and arguments. For the first time, Enjolras was losing his tongue. Smirking slightly, Combeferre placed another line under Éponine's name.

Enjolras—3. Éponine—29.


	2. The Boat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or Anastasia... sadly...**

It had been weeks since their train ride and now the trio were on a ship to Paris. During the fiacre rides to the boat, the _monsieurs_ had taught Éponine practically everything she needed to know about being Princess Emilie. Of course, she still needed practice—and a few more lessons here and there, but she already seemed to have the basics down. Now, another thing she needed was to _look_ like a princess.

He shoved the scarlet red dress towards her, his chin proudly tilting up. "I bought you a dress."

Taking, the ends of the dress, she examined it—teasingly serious, opening it and looking through it from the bottom of the dress.

"You bought me a... what is this, a tent?" she mocked, poking her head inside.

"What are you doing?" he frowned, peering at her through the head hole of the dress.

"I'm checking if the Palace of Versailles was shoved in here," she stated with a smirk and he scowled as he yanked the dress away from her.

"Come on," he rolled his eyes, shoving the dress into her hands. "Just put it on."

"Do I have to?" she whined, pouting back as she stared warily at the dress in her hands.

"Yes," he stated with finality, as he turned on his heel and started to leave. Just before he disappeared above the steps, he shouted, "You're welcome!"

Sticking her tongue out where he had been, she threw the dress over her shoulder and stalked into her room, muttering, "I hate that man." under her breath.

Flattening the creases, she looked up at the _monsieurs_ bent over a book on the bench on deck and reluctantly made her way to them. Stopping a few feet behind them, she coughed to make her presence known.

It was Combeferre—who was facing her—who looked up first.

"You look wonderful! Like a real princess," he complimented, grinning as he nudged Enjolras to look.

Enjolras turned, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to adjust to the light. When he realized who stood in front of him, and how different she looked, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Ta-da...?" Éponine held her hands up, weakly trying to present herself, which made Enjolras' lips twitch in amusement.

Before Enjolras could say a word, Combeferre stood from his seat and examined her more closely. A proud smile brightening his face as he nodded. "You look like a real princess now, Éponine."

"Thanks, 'Ferre," she smiled shyly. She wasn't used to getting so many compliments.

"Now, you are dressed for a ball," Combeferre beamed. "And you will learn to dance for one as well."

"Oh, do I have to?" she groaned, reluctantly letting Combeferre lead her to the middle of the deck.

"A princess knows how to dance," Combeferre smirked before waving at Enjolras to join them. "Enjolras."

"What? Why me?" Enjolras frowned, though he let his friend pull him towards the girl.

"Because heaven knows I can't dance," Combeferre chuckled, shaking his head. "But, I know the rhythm and how it's supposed to be done—so, Éponine, place your hands here and there and follow Enjolras."

Éponine placed her hands where Combeferre had told her to and started to sway back and forth, following the rhythmic beat Combeferre sang.

"And it is one, two, three, one two—no, no, Éponine, let Enjolras lead."

Hesitantly, Éponine repeated the simple dance steps, letting Enjolras guide her around the deck. She followed Combeferre's beat and sang it in her head. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. Soon enough, she was starting to get the hang of it—though her eyes were glued to her feet as she watched her steps.

"Hey, Éponine," Enjolras called her, his index finger lifting her head up by her chin. "Look at me."

"O-okay," she stumbled slightly in her step as she complied, but Enjolras effortlessly caught her and continued to dance.

"Just trust me," Enjolras reassured her, his stormy blue eyes surprisingly calming.

"Okay," she replied more confidently, smiling softly up at him.

He replied with a small, warm smile and said, "Oh, and that dress is really beautiful."

"Just the dress?" she quirked a brow, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"Oh, well, I suppose its wearer is beautiful as well," Enjolras teased in return, his small smile growing.

"You suppose?" she chuckled, enjoying the playful side of Enjolras.

"Yes, well, you do look quite beautiful with your hair down," Enjolras admitted, the teasing tone in his voice replaced with a sincere one.

"Oh, thank you," Éponine smiled, her eyes falling to the floor shyly.

"Hey, look at me, remember?" Enjolras reminded her and she looked up at him again, revealing a faint blush on her olive skin.

Enjolras twirled her easily and she returned to his arms in a single motion. She was surprised by how easy dancing seemed to be, when she wasn't focusing on dancing. It was pretty ironic.

"How come you're so good at dancing?" she asked him as she returned from another one of his twirls.

"My mother danced with me when I was younger," he explained fondly. "She said that I'd need to learn how to dance one day. It'll help me get a wife, she had said."

"She sounds like quite a woman," Éponine complimented as their dancing started to slow.

"Yes, she was pretty amazing," Enjolras agreed as their dancing started to turn lazy. "Sorry, I'm starting to get dizzy."

"From all the spinning?" she asked, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "Yes, I am as well."

"We should stop."

"We have stopped," she smirked lightly, and he looked down at their feet to realize that, indeed, they had stopped dancing.

"Oh," he mumbled his eyes unconsciously rising to her lips. " Éponine..."

"Yes?" she whispered back, moving unconsciously closer to him.

Suddenly, he felt a pull drawing him closer—an invisible magnet pulling him towards her. A magnet that she seemed to feel, too. Soon, he was only inches away from her lips, hovering over her hesitantly.

But his mind won over his heart. He slowly started to pull away, coughing to ease away the heated air. Too embarrassed to look her in the eyes, he gave her hand a friendly pat and started to walk away, saying, "You're doing great."

He disappeared from sight and she heaved a sigh. A part of her knew that all kinds of wrong could happen if what she thought was going to happen continued, but there was that small part of her that wanted it. That small part of her that dreamt of it.

**([Okay, so, I guess that's it...? I only really planned until this part of the story {Actually, it was supposed to be a one-shot but I got this idea soon after} so I don't think I'll be continuing it. HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS TWO-SHOT, THOUGH! And if you're interested, I ****_do_**** have more Enjonine works published here. Check them out if you want ;)) Again, review and favorite!])**


	3. The End?

He should have known.

Éponine was too special a girl to not be royalty.

A light smirk made its way onto his face when he realized that their con was actually the truth. It was an honest con. He chuckled at the irony and continued his way down the staircase.

From their first meeting, he would have never guessed that she was a princess.

_It was another night after _another_ failed auditions for their search for the "Princess of France". Which was really just a search for a good actress._

_Yes, Enjolras knew it was very risky to con the royal family, but he couldn't really hear the risks over the possibility of a million euros. Combeferre and he left the small theater they had rented for the night and made their way to Le Cafe Musain for an appetizing dinner. The snow laden streets crunched under their feet and the whispering wind was the only noise to fill their ears. That is, until they heard a loud, shattering sound._

"_Git outta 'ere yah little brat!" a rumble of a man's voice roared as a skinny little girl fell onto the street._

"_I never wanted to stay with you anyways!" the girl shouted back, scrambling to her feet._

"_Good! We never really wanted an orphan like you!" the man's voice boomed back, a viscious laugh following his statement._

_The girl's eyes widened in the dim light and shock filled her face for a fraction of a second before it hardened and she tilted her chin up. "Well, I'm happy to learn that I ain't related to a scumbag pig like you!"_

_At that reply, a beast of a man stepped out of the door and the young girl scrambled away, pushing past Enjolras and Combeferre to run away. When the man realized that she wasn't anywhere near anymore, he grunted and reentered his abode, leaving the two men alone in the silence._

"_Well, that was—" Enjolras started to say before a heart-wrenching sob filled the air._

_Combeferre, moved by the sound, followed it to the alleyway only a few steps behind them. In the alley was the young girl kicked out of the house, curled up into a ball and sobbing in the freezing cold._

"_Mademoiselle," Combeferre called the girl, kneeling to her side and throwing his coat over her shoulders. "It is cold out here, mademoiselle. You should find shelter."_

"_I was just thrown out of my own home, monsieur," she croaked back, her nailed digging into her legs. "I don't have any shelter to go to."_

"_Then please, come with us, even if it is just for dinner," Combeferre insisted, being the kindhearted young man that he was. It was hard enough to believe that he ever agreed to help Enjolras con the royal family._

_Slowly, the girl's red rimmed eyes looked up at the young man offering his help and—finding no trace of malice or ill-will in them—she let him pull her to her feet and lead her to the cafe._

_Enjolras followed behind the pair as Combeferre started to make introductions. His eyes glued on the new face, finding that her face seemed so _familiar.

_A distant memory of a starving, cold, and lost little girl flashed in his mind and an image of him leading the little girl into an inn to keep her safe. He remembered that the little girl was so thankful, so innocent and carefree. He knew she'd grow to be a kindhearted, smart, and beautiful young woman._

"_I'm Combeferre, my good lady," Combeferre started, before pointing a thumb at Enjolras—who had gotten lost in his thoughts—behind them. "And that's my good friend Enjolras."_

"_Enjolras?" the girl repeated. "As in, Julien Enjolras? The great con-man?"_

_The girl looked over her shoulder to see a slight smirk on the man's face at hearing her comment and she knew by that look that it was the same Enjolras._

"_So _you're_ the idiot who thinks he can con the royals," she rolled her eyes and Enjolras' brows scrunched together at the insult. _Maybe it isn't the same girl_, he thought, frowning._

_Before he could fire back a retort, the trio had reached the Cafe and Combeferre was ushering them both in._

_Soon enough, the young men learn that the young girl's name was Éponine and that she had been kicked out of her house for protecting her brother—or her not-brother, really, because they weren't actually related, apparently—from a slap from her father. She learned she was adopted when the young men had heard the man shout at her and learned that she knew nothing from the time she was eight and before that._

He remembered convincing her to help them search for a girl to act as Emilie. And in the end, they had chosen her to play the part because of a surprising change of wardrobe.

_Éponine had gotten a dress from her seamstress friend—Cosette—and had tied only a part of her hair back one day. And when the two men had seen her, they were taken aback by the uncanny resemblance she had with the princess. They had started feeding her regularly ever since she had joined them and she had turned from skin-and-bones to a beautiful full figure. They had let her stay with them and so she was able to enjoy the privilege of a nice, warm bath and a hairbrush and her _own _toothbrush!_

_After being cleaned and fed, and changed into some fairly decent clothes, the two boys could not deny the similarities the young woman had with the supposedly-missing Princess Emilie. So, after a lot of begging and debates and long nights trying t convince her, they had managed to get Éponine into the game of acting as Princess Emilie._

He remembered wondering how she couldn't remember her childhood, how she just seemed to _exist_ out of nothing. A nothing-but-really-a-something out of nothing. But she was the most aggravating, infuriating, frustrating, yet beautifully different nothing he had ever had the chance to encounter.

A sad smile touched his lips at the thought of never being able to see her again. But it was for the best, he reminded himself. The Princess of France couldn't marry a kitchen boy! Much less be _seen_ with one. So, taking a deep breath, he continued to make his way out of the manor, his shoulders back and chin set defiantly forward.

* * *

Holding her sister's—Princess Helen's—hand, Éponine—or Emilie, but she could never seem to call herself that—looked out her window to see Enjolras walking out of the manor, his shoulders set and his head never swerving. She wondered if he had his hands clasped tightly around his reward money. She wondered if he would leave and never send her a letter. She wondered if he thought about her. She wondered if he'd turn back. She wondered if he'd forgotten about her already.

"Emilie," her sister called her, squeezing her hand gently. "Come on, we should get ready for the ball. It _is_ your welcome home celebration, after all."

Nodding absentmindedly, she let her sister pull her away from the window and help pick out a dress for her, an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He never looked back.

* * *

She looked at the ballroom from behind the thick purple curtains, her eyes searching for a familiar face.

"He's not there," a gentle, bird-like voice told her from behind and Éponine turned to see her mother walking up to her. The Queen stopped to stand beside her pushing away a part of the curtain to look out into the crowd as well.

"Oh, I know he's not—he, I—" Éponine stumbled with her words, looking at her mother, then back at the crowd before asking, "Who's not there, _mere_?"

"A remarkable young man who had brought a cold, lost young girl to an inn for shelter."

Knowing who her mere was talking about, she shrugged, "Oh, no, he's probably off spending his reward money as fast as he can."

Giving her daughter a knowing look, the Queen looked out at the dancing crowd and spoke in a reminiscent tone, "Look at them dance," she told her daughter. "You were born into this world of jewels and titles, but I wonder if this is what you really want."

Shocked by her own mother's words, Éponine pulled away from the curtains, her heart and her mind at war with each other.

"O-Of course this is what I really want," she replied, following her mind. "I found a home I never knew existed, I found my true family, I found who I really am. I couldn't ask for anything else."

The Queen followed her daughter's pacing, placing a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder. Calmly, she pulled her into a hug.

"You did find all those things, darling," she whispered into her hair. "And you'll always have those things. You'll always have a home, a family—you'll always have yourself to trust. But is it enough?"

Her heart screamed the answer to her but her mind was battling with the dream. As her mother started to pull away, she told her one more sentence, "And my angel, he never took the money." before disappearing into the crowd.

Her mind tried to wrap around her mother's words, but she couldn't seem to fully grasp what she had said.

He didn't take the money.

He _didn't_ take the money.

_He didn't take the money_!

Her eyes widened in shock, surprised at the decision Enjolras had made. Ever since she had met him, he was all about the money. Even on the first night they had met, he had ordered the cheapest meals the cafe had and kept every change securely in his pocket. Enjolras seemed like a man just waiting for the chance to get his money and go out and do something _big_ with it.

But he didn't do that.

He didn't take the money.

Needing some fresh air and more time to think about this new revelation, she turned form the curtain and made her way to the balcony behind her.

The night air was cold and nipping but she found that it felt better than the intoxicating perfumes that hit her when she would enter the palace. She leaned her arms on the banister of the balcony and looked up into the night sky, wondering if Enjolras had already left Paris.

As her thoughts started to wander to the man who had left her mind in turmoil, a familiar voice sliced the silence of the night.

"'Ponine," a warm, calming voice called from below and she looked down, only to see the dark expanse of nothing below her.

"No, 'Ponine, over _here_," the voice called again and she turned her head to the staircase on her right to see bright eyed young blond in an unkempt casual attire holding a single rose at the middle of the staircase.

"Enjolras," she whispered his name disbelievingly, taking a step towards him.

Enjolras walked up the steps in long, easy strides and stood in front of her, handing her the single red rose in his hands. "I got this for you."

She took the rose gently, cradling its petals in the palm of her hand, staring at its beauty under the moonlight before she looked up to meet his striking blue eyes.

"You came back," she stated quietly, a gentle smile blooming on her lips.

"Yes, well, there's something I forgot to do," he nodded, his normally cold blue eyes showing a spark of warmth.

"Oh," she sighed, thinking that he had changed his mind about the reward money and looked down.

"Éponine," he called her name but she stubbornly kept her eyes glued to the floor.

"Éponine," he called again, taking her chin and gently making her look him in the eyes. "Look at me, remember?"

She couldn't stop the slight twitch of a smile on her lips as the memory of him teaching her to dance played in her mind. She did remember.

"Now, do you want to know what I forgot?" he asked, trying to urge _her_ to ask.

"I'm not so sure if I want to," she admitted quietly but Enjolras still continued to smile.

"Well, may I show you what I forgot?" he asked instead and she nodded reluctantly.

"I forgot this," he whispered as he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled away few seconds later, his cheeks were tinted a bright red and his eyes were glued to the ground, embarrassed. "I couldn't really leave without one."

A smile was etched on Éponine's face after the kiss, realizing that he had returned for _her_. But her smile dimmed slightly when she realized that his words also implied that he would still be leaving.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked him, hope laced in her words as she placed her hand over his beating heart.

"I—I don't really see what I can do here," he admitted reluctantly and she looped her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer.

"Well, you could stay here and entertain me," she smirked, her old self poking through her princess exterior.

"I'm not that great an entertainer," he chuckled, hovering over her lips.

"It's a good thing I'm easily amused then," she smiled before closing the gap and pulling him in for a long, sweet kiss.

When the two broke apart with matching grins, a surprising sound of applause erupted from entrance of the balcony.

"That is _so_ sweet!" Princess Helen clapped, having watched half of the exchange with a goofy grin on her face. "Aw, you two are just so _cute_ together! _Un couple parfait_!"

Éponine quickly pulled away form Enjolras, blushing madly and embarrassed at having been seen by her sister. Enjolras was in no better state, scratching the back of his neck as he awkwardly stared at the ground.

Princess Helen laughed at the two's reactions before stepping back and waving goodbye. "Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. But _mere_ is calling for you Emilie, so don't take _too_ long."

Princess Helen let out a little giggle before disappearing into the palace and leaving the two alone.

"I am so sorry about that," Éponine mumbled, still embarrassed and blushing.

"It's quite alright," Enjolras smiled slightly, happy to have at least _one_ royal's approval. "But, I think you should go to your _mere_ now. She's calling you, isn't she?"

Éponine looked up from the floor, her flushed face loosing its color but a content smile on her lips. "Will you go with me to see her?"

Enjolras hesitated, looking at her outstretched hand warily. He felt as if this was a big step he was taking. If he accepted, he was staying, he was going to stay with Éponine. If he decided to still leave, though, he could still see the world he knew so little about.

He looked up into her expectant eyes and knew then what his answer would be.

He should have known.

Éponine was too special a girl to not be royalty.

A light smirk made its way onto his face when he realized that their con was actually the truth. It was an honest con. He chuckled at the irony and continued his way down the staircase.

From their first meeting, he would have never guessed that she was a princess.

_It was another night after _another_ failed auditions for their search for the "Princess of France". Which was really just a search for a good actress._

_Yes, Enjolras knew it was very risky to con the royal family, but he couldn't really hear the risks over the possibility of a million euros. Combeferre and he left the small theater they had rented for the night and made their way to Le Cafe Musain for an appetizing dinner. The snow laden streets crunched under their feet and the whispering wind was the only noise to fill their ears. That is, until they heard a loud, shattering sound._

"_Git outta 'ere yah little brat!" a rumble of a man's voice roared as a skinny little girl fell onto the street._

"_I never wanted to stay with you anyways!" the girl shouted back, scrambling to her feet._

"_Good! We never really wanted an orphan like you!" the man's voice boomed back, a viscious laugh following his statement._

_The girl's eyes widened in the dim light and shock filled her face for a fraction of a second before it hardened and she tilted her chin up. "Well, I'm happy to learn that I ain't related to a scumbag pig like you!"_

_At that reply, a beast of a man stepped out of the door and the young girl scrambled away, pushing past Enjolras and Combeferre to run away. When the man realized that she wasn't anywhere near anymore, he grunted and reentered his abode, leaving the two men alone in the silence._

"_Well, that was—" Enjolras started to say before a heart-wrenching sob filled the air._

_Combeferre, moved by the sound, followed it to the alleyway only a few steps behind them. In the alley was the young girl kicked out of the house, curled up into a ball and sobbing in the freezing cold._

"_Mademoiselle," Combeferre called the girl, kneeling to her side and throwing his coat over her shoulders. "It is cold out here, mademoiselle. You should find shelter."_

"_I was just thrown out of my own home, monsieur," she croaked back, her nailed digging into her legs. "I don't have any shelter to go to."_

"_Then please, come with us, even if it is just for dinner," Combeferre insisted, being the kindhearted young man that he was. It was hard enough to believe that he ever agreed to help Enjolras con the royal family._

_Slowly, the girl's red rimmed eyes looked up at the young man offering his help and—finding no trace of malice or ill-will in them—she let him pull her to her feet and lead her to the cafe._

_Enjolras followed behind the pair as Combeferre started to make introductions. His eyes glued on the new face, finding that her face seemed so _familiar.

_A distant memory of a starving, cold, and lost little girl flashed in his mind and an image of him leading the little girl into an inn to keep her safe. He remembered that the little girl was so thankful, so innocent and carefree. He knew she'd grow to be a kindhearted, smart, and beautiful young woman._

"_I'm Combeferre, my good lady," Combeferre started, before pointing a thumb at Enjolras—who had gotten lost in his thoughts—behind them. "And that's my good friend Enjolras."_

"_Enjolras?" the girl repeated. "As in, Julien Enjolras? The great con-man?"_

_The girl looked over her shoulder to see a slight smirk on the man's face at hearing her comment and she knew by that look that it was the same Enjolras._

"_So _you're_ the idiot who thinks he can con the royals," she rolled her eyes and Enjolras' brows scrunched together at the insult. _Maybe it isn't the same girl_, he thought, frowning._

_Before he could fire back a retort, the trio had reached the Cafe and Combeferre was ushering them both in._

_Soon enough, the young men learn that the young girl's name was Éponine and that she had been kicked out of her house for protecting her brother—or her not-brother, really, because they weren't actually related, apparently—from a slap from her father. She learned she was adopted when the young men had heard the man shout at her and learned that she knew nothing from the time she was eight and before that._

He remembered convincing her to help them search for a girl to act as Emilie. And in the end, they had chosen her to play the part because of a surprising change of wardrobe.

_Éponine had gotten a dress from her seamstress friend—Cosette—and had tied only a part of her hair back one day. And when the two men had seen her, they were taken aback by the uncanny resemblance she had with the princess. They had started feeding her regularly ever since she had joined them and she had turned from skin-and-bones to a beautiful full figure. They had let her stay with them and so she was able to enjoy the privilege of a nice, warm bath and a hairbrush and her _own _toothbrush!_

_After being cleaned and fed, and changed into some fairly decent clothes, the two boys could not deny the similarities the young woman had with the supposedly-missing Princess Emilie. So, after a lot of begging and debates and long nights trying t convince her, they had managed to get Éponine into the game of acting as Princess Emilie._

He remembered wondering how she couldn't remember her childhood, how she just seemed to _exist_ out of nothing. A nothing-but-really-a-something out of nothing. But she was the most aggravating, infuriating, frustrating, yet beautifully different nothing he had ever had the chance to encounter.

A sad smile touched his lips at the thought of never being able to see her again. But it was for the best, he reminded himself. The Princess of France couldn't marry a kitchen boy! Much less be _seen_ with one. So, taking a deep breath, he continued to make his way out of the manor, his shoulders back and chin set defiantly forward.

Holding her sister's—Princess Helen's—hand, Éponine—or Emilie, but she could never seem to call herself that—looked out her window to see Enjolras walking out of the manor, his shoulders set and his head never swerving. She wondered if he had his hands clasped tightly around his reward money. She wondered if he would leave and never send her a letter. She wondered if he thought about her. She wondered if he'd turn back. She wondered if he'd forgotten about her already.

"Emilie," her sister called her, squeezing her hand gently. "Come on, we should get ready for the ball. It _is_ your welcome home celebration, after all."

Nodding absentmindedly, she let her sister pull her away from the window and help pick out a dress for her, an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He never looked back.

She looked at the ballroom from behind the thick purple curtains, her eyes searching for a familiar face.

"He's not there," a gentle, bird-like voice told her from behind and Éponine turned to see her mother walking up to her. The Queen stopped to stand beside her pushing away a part of the curtain to look out into the crowd as well.

"Oh, I know he's not—he, I—" Éponine stumbled with her words, looking at her mother, then back at the crowd before asking, "Who's not there, _mere_?"

"A remarkable young man who had brought a cold, lost young girl to an inn for shelter."

Knowing who her mere was talking about, she shrugged, "Oh, no, he's probably off spending his reward money as fast as he can."

Giving her daughter a knowing look, the Queen looked out at the dancing crowd and spoke in a reminiscent tone, "Look at them dance," she told her daughter. "You were born into this world of jewels and titles, but I wonder if this is what you really want."

Shocked by her own mother's words, Éponine pulled away from the curtains, her heart and her mind at war with each other.

"O-Of course this is what I really want," she replied, following her mind. "I found a home I never knew existed, I found my true family, I found who I really am. I couldn't ask for anything else."

The Queen followed her daughter's pacing, placing a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder. Calmly, she pulled her into a hug.

"You did find all those things, darling," she whispered into her hair. "And you'll always have those things. You'll always have a home, a family—you'll always have yourself to trust. But is it enough?"

Her heart screamed the answer to her but her mind was battling with the dream. As her mother started to pull away, she told her one more sentence, "And my angel, he never took the money." before disappearing into the crowd.

Her mind tried to wrap around her mother's words, but she couldn't seem to fully grasp what she had said.

He didn't take the money.

He _didn't_ take the money.

_He didn't take the money_!

Her eyes widened in shock, surprised at the decision Enjolras had made. Ever since she had met him, he was all about the money. Even on the first night they had met, he had ordered the cheapest meals the cafe had and kept every change securely in his pocket. Enjolras seemed like a man just waiting for the chance to get his money and go out and do something _big_ with it.

But he didn't do that.

He didn't take the money.

Needing some fresh air and more time to think about this new revelation, she turned form the curtain and made her way to the balcony behind her.

The night air was cold and nipping but she found that it felt better than the intoxicating perfumes that hit her when she would enter the palace. She leaned her arms on the banister of the balcony and looked up into the night sky, wondering if Enjolras had already left Paris.

As her thoughts started to wander to the man who had left her mind in turmoil, a familiar voice sliced the silence of the night.

"'Ponine," a warm, calming voice called from below and she looked down, only to see the dark expanse of nothing below her.

"No, 'Ponine, over _here_," the voice called again and she turned her head to the staircase on her right to see bright eyed young blond in an unkempt casual attire holding a single rose at the middle of the staircase.

"Enjolras," she whispered his name disbelievingly, taking a step towards him.

Enjolras walked up the steps in long, easy strides and stood in front of her, handing her the single red rose in his hands. "I got this for you."

She took the rose gently, cradling its petals in the palm of her hand, staring at its beauty under the moonlight before she looked up to meet his striking blue eyes.

"You came back," she stated quietly, a gentle smile blooming on her lips.

"Yes, well, there's something I forgot to do," he nodded, his normally cold blue eyes showing a spark of warmth.

"Oh," she sighed, thinking that he had changed his mind about the reward money and looked down.

"Éponine," he called her name but she stubbornly kept her eyes glued to the floor.

"Éponine," he called again, taking her chin and gently making her look him in the eyes. "Look at me, remember?"

She couldn't stop the slight twitch of a smile on her lips as the memory of him teaching her to dance played in her mind. She did remember.

"Now, do you want to know what I forgot?" he asked, trying to urge _her_ to ask.

"I'm not so sure if I want to," she admitted quietly but Enjolras still continued to smile.

"Well, may I show you what I forgot?" he asked instead and she nodded reluctantly.

"I forgot this," he whispered as he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled away few seconds later, his cheeks were tinted a bright red and his eyes were glued to the ground, embarrassed. "I couldn't really leave without one."

A smile was etched on Éponine's face after the kiss, realizing that he had returned for _her_. But her smile dimmed slightly when she realized that his words also implied that he would still be leaving.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked him, hope laced in her words as she placed her hand over his beating heart.

"I—I don't really see what I can do here," he admitted reluctantly and she looped her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer.

"Well, you could stay here and entertain me," she smirked, her old self poking through her princess exterior.

"I'm not that great an entertainer," he chuckled, hovering over her lips.

"It's a good thing I'm easily amused then," she smiled before closing the gap and pulling him in for a long, sweet kiss.

When the two broke apart with matching grins, a surprising sound of applause erupted from entrance of the balcony.

"That is _so_ sweet!" Princess Helen clapped, having watched half of the exchange with a goofy grin on her face. "Aw, you two are just so _cute_ together! _Un couple parfait_!"

Éponine quickly pulled away form Enjolras, blushing madly and embarrassed at having been seen by her sister. Enjolras was in no better state, scratching the back of his neck as he awkwardly stared at the ground.

Princess Helen laughed at the two's reactions before stepping back and waving goodbye. "Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. But _mere_ is calling for you Emilie, so don't take _too_ long."

Princess Helen let out a little giggle before disappearing into the palace and leaving the two alone.

"I am so sorry about that," Éponine mumbled, still embarrassed and blushing.

"It's quite alright," Enjolras smiled slightly, happy to have at least _one_ royal's approval. "But, I think you should go to your _mere_ now. She's calling you, isn't she?"

Éponine looked up from the floor, her flushed face loosing its color but a content smile on her lips. "Will you go with me to see her?"

Enjolras hesitated, looking at her outstretched hand warily. He felt as if this was a big step he was taking. If he accepted, he was staying, he was going to stay with Éponine. If he decided to still leave, though, he could still see the world he knew so little about.

He looked up into her expectant eyes and knew then what his answer would be.

**([Okay! So, I finally got around to finishing this {Because an awesome someone had requested for it, so you can thank that person for this extra long chapter}! Haha, but I guess some wouldn't really call this finished, yeah? xD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this last chapter! Honestly, I was planning on making it longer but I just ended my exams yesterday and had an emotionally draining goodbye/Christmas party today so I'm pooped. If you want more you can... BEG. Just kidding xD I won't make you guys do that, I love you all too much! Haha, but, really, I hope you all enjoyed and can't wait to hear what you all thought of it! The ending is pretty open-ended s****o you guys can make of it what you wish ;)) Fave & Review and have a Merry Christmas everyone {Or whatever it is you guys celebrate...}!])**


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